Held
by ManipJunkie
Summary: This is how I would like 'committed' to end


First story, or at least first one you'll see.

This is in honor of committed because this is how I want it to end, and probably not how its going too.

Pairing GS – because I enjoy being slapped with blatant chemistry every week.

Rating: PG

Spoilers uhm kinda spoilers for committed but nothing real serious.

Disclaimer – maybe I do own them… maybe I work for CBS but they won't let me do what I want to do with the characters so I come here and do it instead… nope! Don't own a darn thing!

Uhm I think that's all… happy reading!

Oh and for maximum enjoyment… listen to The Used – Hard to say, Snow Patrol – How to be dead, and Jems – flying high while reading… because its what I listened to when I wrote it ;)

* * *

Grissom sat in his car. It wasn't quite dark yet, but the rain clouds made for a very dreary evening. He had turned the engine off, turned the lights off. The only thing left to do was get out of the car. After that, there was no turning back.

He allowed the events of the last two days to play again across his mind. Immediately his stomach turned to rot as he saw it again. The faces could change, the places could change, but Sara helpless and himself helpless to save her…. well that was cause for action. But she was ok, right? She was fine? No, she was still alive… which is all he had ever really done. He protected her life. His need to protect her had never gone much further than that. He had never thought to guard her heart, or had he? He'd set his affection for her aside, trying so hard to remain in control of a situation he had a hard time even recognizing…. No, it couldn't be, could it? Not love… anything but love.

XXXXXX

Sara sat inside her apartment, mug in hand. Her eyes were flitting around her apartment. She was searching, searching for something. Something that would distract her, something to keep her attention. Something that would calm her, so her thoughts could not retreat back into that memory that was fighting so hard against her skull.

He could say what he wanted to say…. Despite fearing for her life, Sara was still able to recognize the look in his eyes. She was after all, an investigator. She wasn't just trained to analyze evidence, but the people it was attached to, and the emotions that ruled those people. Sara had lost hope of seeing those emotions. So much talk of emotions and feelings and blah. She just wanted to know he still cared about her, and he had finally demonstrated it, with that one simple look, and there her hope lived again.

She had remembered that her attraction to Grissom started as admirable. She had simply recognized him as someone so like herself, yet somehow, better. And that's where she wanted to be again. She wanted to think she'd not seen anything in his eyes, in his desperation to tear down the door, to tear down the whole damn building to get to her. And she had to fight it, fight it because she knew he would have regretted it…. if he had held her.

If Grissom did what she wanted him to do, it would go against everything she had ever loved about him. What was he to her if not the only sound individual, who cared about others more than himself. The only person who seemed to play by the right kind of ethics. He followed the rules, not because he wanted to, but because he knew they were there for a reason. And that was enough, if only it could be enough for her. It had been a long time... but somehow she knew that when everything was said and done, he would come home to her. And that is what she came to Vegas for, and that's why she stayed in Vegas.

XXXXX

Not much left to do… Deep breath as he pulled on the medal handle and heard the click. He shut it and stared at his destination. It was only a door, so why was fear crawling its way inside of him. He shoved his hands in his pockets; he knew what he came to do. It was simple, but he knew what it would mean. He climbed the stares and knocked softly against the deep red door. It took only a moment before she opened.

He forgot why he was afraid. She looked so tired, so drained, and yet so pretty. Perfectly brown eyes just barely looking at him. She didn't have the energy to open them. He wondered when sleep would finally fall upon her. Strongest person he had ever known. The most brilliant person he had ever known. And yet she had a spark, a love for life that most people in his profession began to dismiss, and one he envied. He remembered the first time he had seen her, how her presence had struck him like never before. He never wanted to be out of it. Always in her presence, always in her thoughts, to always have her respect, her admiration, and yes even her future. He knew it, even though he never spoke of it… someday, when jobs were no longer important, she would come home to him.

Her fingers painted clear lay against the door frame. She was in gray cotton sweats and a burgundy Harvard tee-shirt. Her hair laying in soft almost curls against her shoulders. He could see it then hiding then just below her ear. Without hesitating, without thinking he ran his thumb so gently against it. He was careful not to sting the small but haunting puncture wound. _The Bastard had cut her. And he had tried to do much more than that._ Another deep breath, his tongue rolled against his cheek, and then finally Grissom pulled her to him.

His hand went from her neck to her hair, cradling the back of her head in his hand. One step forward and she had completely fallen into him. She draped her arms around his waist as his arms, his hands, circled her shoulders. Never had Sara thought a clean cotton polo could smell and feel so good. Then in the quiet, the tears started and they didn't stop. He couldn't stop his fingers from moving in and out of her dark hair. She smelled like cinnamon, and Grissom realized he never been close enough to pinpoint it. His lips against her ear. He should've done this so long ago. He held her there until her sobbing turned into sniffling. And even then he was sorry when she pulled back. Looking up at him, she laughed. A simple quiet laugh, not because it was funny, but because it was ironic that a threat against her life is what would finally bring him to her door. He liked that she was laughing, and he knew just as well as she did why. His hands were now against her face. His palms on her cheeks fingers curling just under her jaw and his thumb traced the wet tear stains at the corners of her eyes. He gave a small smile and shook his head slightly. And he let himself say it, so quiet, "I'm sorry" She rolled her eyes just barely while pulling him inside and shutting the door behind them.

The End


End file.
